


I cried to dream again

by TimesAStrangeThing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Dies, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Season/Series Finale, be nice, its ok though, soooooo, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimesAStrangeThing/pseuds/TimesAStrangeThing
Summary: Death was an old friend of the Winchesters. Literally. With Dean gone, and Sam alone in the world. This is how he dug himself out of the hole death dug for him.(This isn't exactly throwing away canon its molding it in to what it should have been)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	I cried to dream again

Emptiness.

That’s all there was. A shadow lay across Sam’s world, only briefly lit by fire. Then smoke descended again. He didn’t know how long it had been since his brother had died yet he knew, somehow it had been 6 weeks 5 hours and 43 minutes since the world come undone around him. The silence wasn’t the worst part, the wrong noises were. The humming of off-key metallic riffs and whispered curses still lingered in the empty bunker.

Walking the halls turned out to be the newest way to pass the time, a new game if that was what it could be called. Walk as far as possible, to fall on the floor, unable to bear the weight of a world, without his brother in it.

It took him weeks to be able to go into his room again, but the smell of old beer was almost as bad as the blood he could never quite wash off his hands. So walk in he did, heart in his stomach, and a miracle at his side. He walked. Because he had to. So when he found a box under his brother’s bed, Sammy written across it in the blocky letters of a child, he was taken aback. The lock on the front was old, yet it seemed to have been recently unlocked, judging by the lack of dust surrounding the keyhole.

Searching around the room led to nothing but old pornos, and half stale pizza slices. Until he looked up from grasping underneath the bed, at a confused looking mutt, with an oddly shaped tag dangling from its collar.

Sitting up, and gesturing for the dog to come closer, he carefully pulled the collar over Miracle's head. Attached was a generic dog tag, and a single key.

“Always loved your mysteries,” a choked sob came out of his mouth, muffled slightly by hurriedly rubbing at his eyes.

Leaning against the end of the bed, he inspected the lock and key. A perfect match. Fitting the key in, he turned, pausing only to shift into a more comfortable position. The inside was filled with papers, nicknacks, and assorted bullet casings. One letter sat on top of the rest, which seemed to be the most recent. It was signed to him in Dean’s haphazard script and sealed with red wax.

Opening the seal revealed a letter dated a few days before his brother’s death. A last gift, perhaps.

\- - -

_Hey, Sammy, you and I both know I’m shit at saying my words out loud, and heaven forbid I actually admit to like or care about something. But the thing is, Sammy, I do care about three things in this world. You, my baby, and Cas. But it will always be you first, that’s why I made this box Sammy, it’s my last gift to you. If I’m dead. Because we both know I’d never let you read this if I was alive. So, I want you to know a few things..._

_First: I’m waiting for you, Sammy. No matter where I am, I’m waiting for you. Cause you’re my stupid ass little brother and I’ll always need you. I can’t be happy anywhere without you._

_Second: Take care of yourself, I know you. You learned one of my worst character flaws “everything is my fault”. But It’s not, Sammy. I don’t care how I went it would never be your fault. Find Eileen, stop hunting for a bit, and just live. Just live, Sammy. Be a human. Get stuck in grocery lines for insane amounts of time or drive your kid to school. Just don’t name him John._

_Third: Cut your hair, you look like a damn Sasquatch._

_I don't know if I will have the time to write any more letters. And I’ve rewritten this letter so many times. So, since this is the last one I wrote before my death then here’s what’s just happened. Cas is gone. The empty came for him. Bobby, Charlie, and even the damn miracle dog, their all gone. As I sit here writing to you, Lucifer and Michel are having the staring contest to end all staring contests. Because I might be too busy trying to save the world again, from God._  
_So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started hunting with you. And you helped me. You helped me, Sammy, we’ve lost so much since I walked in your door all those years ago. Even if you didn't know what I was talking about. You in your weird striped pant thingies, and a girlfriend. Being with you made me not feel alone._

_Because I know there are people who will say our lives didn’t happen. And there are people who forget what it’s like to be normal when they get dragged along on the great journey of being a hunter. I know our lives will be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. And you’ll be somebody's dad because I can not imagine a time where I die without saving you. But right now, these moments are not stories. These are our lives, our crazy demon, angel, monster-filled lives. This is happening. We’re here. And as I look at this world so beautiful. And so broken. But it was Home. It was our Home. You, me, jack, and that wonderful angel, following each other from heaven to hell, and everywhere and everything in-between._  
_And at this moment, standing against God himself, with little to no chance to survive but sheer dumb Winchester logic and luck. I would swear on my own soul._

_We are infinite._

_So get up off your ass, we’ll see each other again. Death hasn’t ever been able to keep us apart, even if there’s a new reaper, I doubt that will change. But don’t worry I’ve got my hand full waiting for you. And I for one cant wait to see Kevin and Charlie’s faces._

_And besides, I’ve got an Angel to run after._

Love,  
Your brother, Dean.

\- - -

After the tears slowed down long enough to read the letter once, he read it again. And again. Until the words could be read when he closed his eyes. Picking himself up, and off the floor, he walked towards the door, pulling on one of Dean’s larger jackets. Making his way slowly through the bunker, the dog at his heels, a silent companion.

Packing himself into the driver’s seat of the impala. He drove. Past hills and mountains, through valleys and towns. The same old mixtapes playing on repeat. And so the stories rose up. The tale of a man, searching for a woman. Who would stop at nothing to find her.

Hunters gathered around fires, in kitchens, and anywhere more than three could sit long enough to hear the tale of the Winchester brothers. The boys not even death could separate. The avenging angel, who would always come when called. And if you were lucky enough to find someone who knew them you could count yourself lucky, as not many that did, lived to tell their tale.

It took time. Several thousand contacts. And mile after mile of the same road. But find her, he did. In an old run-down dinner outside Chesapeake, she waited. Together, tears were shed for the ones lost along the way, old pains were dulled and almost forgotten. Except for green eyes. Those would forever remain. Burned like a handprint in Sam’s mind.

They settled down, and for once Sam got to be on the other end of the job. Instead of protecting people with guns and swords. He protected people with warm hugs and tender words. This life came almost easily to him. The routine distracting him from the ghost of almost forgotten smiles.  
When his time came there was no fuss. Just a hand holding his. Dean. His sun, his son. The light that had been extinguished by the passing of his brother had come roaring back with a passion with the birth of his son.

His son.

Those simple words brought him so much joy. But Sam knew. He could feel it. The end was here, and he wondered what might have happened if he had given up on that empty bedroom floor.

“You can let go, Dad. It’s ok.”

\- - -

“Bitch.”

“Hey, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> HIII ive been in the fandom for like 7 yrs give or take and this is my first fic. I made at 12 in the morning because I couldn't kill the creators of the final. I decided to try and find a bright side to it all. It worked kinda. This is my first delve in to this fandom in a bit please don't hate. The excellent sidespirk helped me edit this.


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